


Assorted tw100 Drabbles

by mydeira



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted drabbles from the LJ tw100 comm. Set during the latter half of S2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assorted tw100 Drabbles

_  
**Title: Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things**   
_

_  
**Prompt taken from Challenge 95: Supernatural Reverse Fandom.**   
_

“The Universe is a cruel bitch, Harkness,” Owen groaned as the last of the life force dissipated, leaving him numb and dead as ever.

Jack lay beside him, entirely too smug. “You always did say we’d only ever shag again over your dead body.”

“Bringing me back for a fuck instead of some bloody code is more acceptable.” Owen flexed his left hand, pleased to find his little finger unbroken. The bullet wound was getting there. “At least I won’t be falling apart anytime soon.”

“Things could have turned out a lot worse.”

“Yeah, you could be crap in bed.”

  


 _  
**Title: Dead Man’s Blood**   
_

_  
**Prompt taken from Challenge 95: Supernatural Reverse Fandom.**   
_

Owen increases the magnification, but the result is just the same up close as it is further away. Every cell is as pristine or damaged as it was at the time of his death. No signs of coagulation. No decay. Perfect preservation, save what damage the world inflicts on him. Or what he does to himself.

Suspended animation. His body’s stuck in a moment. What would it take to push it the rest of the way over?

Switching off the microscope, he shoves it away, fed up with introspection. Philosophy’s for drunks. And, fuck, wouldn’t he kill for a drink.  
  
 _ ****_

 _  
**  
Title: Death Takes a Holiday**   
_

_  
**Prompt taken from Challenge 95: Supernatural Reverse Fandom.**   
_

Decades pass before radiation drops to safe levels and officials break the seal on the reactor to begin disassembly. Stunned workers find a human body in the control room, naked, lifeless, but perfectly preserved. Two die from shock when the man opens his eyes and speaks.

“About bloody time. And what the fuck are you staring at?”

They call Torchwood and Captain Jack Harkness himself immediately arrives on the scene. He silently makes a beeline for the decontamination suite.

Owen holds up his hand before Jack can speak. “If you say sorry, so help me… Just take me home, yeah?”

 

 _  
**Title: Imitation of Life**   
_

_  
**Prompt taken from Challenge 36: R.E.M. Song Titles. A sequel of sorts to Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things.**   
_

Gwen was being fucked by a dead man while Jack Harkness watched. This was wrong on so many levels that—

“Fuck, Owen! Harder!”

He lifted her hips a little higher as he pounded into her.

“God…yes…”

“Easy on the skin, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Unless you want to watch Jack have another go at me already.”

Catching them in the hothouse together…it shouldn’t have been the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

She held onto him as she came, hard.

Sated, sweaty, she glanced over at Jack stroking himself casually in the corner. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

He nodded and smiled. “Anytime.”  
  
 _ ****_

 _  
**  
Title: The Worst Joke Ever**   
_

_  
**Challenge 36: R.E.M. Song Titles. A sequel to Imitation of Life.**   
_

Rhys ran his hands through his hair, facing his suddenly very pregnant fiancée. “You’re telling me this wasn’t done by an alien.”

“No, sorry, I wish it was.” Gwen munched on a gherkin and forced a smile. “Did you ever think alien would be a believable excuse for something?”

“This isn’t funny, Gwen.”

“I know, sorry.” She peeked up at him. “Actually, it kind of is.”

“You’re pregnant with a dead man’s baby. Overnight!” He dropped down onto the couch, looking helpless. “But this is Captain Jack’s fault, yeah?”

“Well…in around about way.”

“Good. I’m going to kill that bastard.”

 

 _  
**  
Title: What I Don’t Understand**   
_

_  
**Prompt taken from Challenge 38: Rhys Williams. Sequel of sorts to The Worst Joke Ever.**   
_

Rhys was very glad he’d decided not to kill Jack Harkness. Stretching muscles he knew were going to be sore tomorrow, he couldn’t help laughing. “You sure know how to distract a bloke, Jack.” And then some.

“It’s been a useful survival skill over the years.”

“Don’t doubt it.” Rhys swung his legs out of the bed, sitting up. “But what gets me is why she’d choose that chimpanzee over you.”

Jack snorted. “Ouch. Accurate, but ouch.”

“So why?”

“Some things you just can’t explain.”

“Like us?”

“No, we’re easy. We’re both irresistible.”

Rhys grinned. “Good answer, Jack. Good answer.”  


 

 _  
**Title: New Killer Star**   
_

_  
**Prompt taken from Challenge 30: David Bowie Song Titles.**   
_

Dress well and act shy…it always drew them in. A few drinks and a couple hours of quiet conversation, and they always followed him. Fevered kisses in dark alleys or just inside his front door, soft curves eagerly pressing against him, always unsuspecting as his hands curled around their necks. And, god, that gasp of when they realized too late what he was…went straight to his cock every time. It was the last sound the women ever made.

Ianto smiled as he falsified another record. He’d been good at covering his tracks before Torchwood. Now, it was almost too easy.  
  
 ** __**

 **  
_  
Title: The Pretty Things Are Going To Hell_   
**

**  
_Prompt taken from Challenge 30: David Bowie Song Titles._   
**

Most joined with good intentions, but the end result was always the same. Day by day, and year by year, if you were so lucky, Torchwood wore you down. Little lies grew ever larger until you just didn’t give a damn anymore and did as you pleased.

Jack had tried to find better, stronger people when Alex left him in charge. But it didn’t matter. Joining Torchwood was equal parts death sentence and damnation. Still, he kept trying and failing. Every recruit beautiful and full of so much promise. Every one dragging him further down. Hell never looked so good.  
  
 _ ****_

 _  
**  
Title: Black Tie, White Noise**   
_

_  
**Prompt taken from Challenge 30: David Bowie Song Titles. Cheated a bit and went for an album title over song, but…**   
_

Tie, perfectly knotted and hanging straight. Suit, neatly pressed and lint-free. Every hair in place, nails clean and well cared for. Ianto Jones was the image of composure and respectability from head to toe.

He’d learned early on that appearance was everything. If you looked like you could be trusted, then people trusted you. Dress right and you could get away with murder. Especially if you kept a low profile and did the jobs that no one else wanted. Shagging your boss never hurt either.

Ianto smiled at himself in the mirror. Torchwood had no idea, and they never would.

 

 

 _  
**Title: We Are The Dead**   
_

_  
**Prompt taken from Challenge 30: David Bowie Song Titles.**   
_

“It’s just a matter of time, isn’t it? And not in that vague, far off sense normal people enjoy.”

Ianto’s lips caressed the back of Gwen’s hand. “You can always walk away.”

“No I can’t. None of us can. When this place gets hold of you, no amount of Retcon can take you back.”

He continued past her wrist and up her arm. “I managed to forget for about six hours after Lisa. Removed all reminders and upped the dose, but here I am.”

“Here we are.” She curled into him, resting her head on his chest. “Until we aren’t.”

 

 _  
**Title: Time Will Crawl**   
_

_  
**Prompt taken from Challenge 30: David Bowie Song Titles.**   
_

It wasn’t until she died again and returned to Torchwood’s morgue that Suzie finally figured it out. That thing in the darkness wasn’t a thing at all. It was sound. The constant hum of life at Torchwood, the conversation and chaos and Ianto’s damn coffee maker. And all she could was lie there, locked in a body that would never decay, listening to life moving on without her. An eternity of endless seconds stuck in a drawer with nothing but the dead and noise to keep her company.

Whoever had said that hell was other people had no bloody idea.  


 **  
_Title: A Better Future_   
**   
**  
__  
**

**  
_Prompt taken from Challenge 30: David Bowie Song Titles._   
**

Owen’s cursing under his breath as he tears at Ianto’s shirt to get at the wound.

Ianto weakly grabs his hand. “Don’t ruin it…more.” Fuck, this hurts.

“You’re an idiot, Ianto. Let—” He barely feels Owen tugging up his sleeve, finding Jack’s wrist strap. “What the hell did you do?”

Blinking, Ianto tries to clear his vision, but it’s slipping away. He thought there would be more time. “You weren’t…supposed to die. It was… wrong.”

“Martha, I’m losing him! Help me!”

It’s already too late. But if he did this right, it won’t matter. He’ll be waking up soon.


End file.
